


Always Be

by charmedtomeetyou



Series: Jimmy Eat World [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 22:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4683566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmedtomeetyou/pseuds/charmedtomeetyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost 9 years after a devastating breakup, Killian Jones makes the spontaneous decision to visit a museum - and ends up running into the (former) love of his life as well as her son. Follow-up to "Cut."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Be

**Author's Note:**

> "Cut" was a heartbreaker, but this one's happy! I promise. Based on the song "Always Be" by Jimmy Eat World. The museum idea came to me from the music video for the song - check it out. It's super adorable.

**Could have been a night like any other**

Fame was a fickle thing. One day you couldn’t walk into a grocery store without being bombarded with pleas for photographs, and the next you couldn’t beg your way into a first class lounge with any amount of name dropping.

And then the pendulum would swing the other way – an Oprah-style _Where are they now_ would air and suddenly you were _famous_ again and getting free things and massive attention and then two months would pass and you were – refreshingly or disappointingly – _anonymous_ once more.

He was enjoying a nice long stretch of anonymous these days. Sure, he was still recognizable enough, especially when he played up the leather and the prosthetic on his left hand. That was usually his strategy for finding lasses to pass the nights with him. He was still “devastatingly handsome” as last night’s woman had asserted, so that was enough to get attention. But his tragedy was usually the thing that sealed the deal – _what woman didn’t want to fuck a national hero, after all_?

Of course, that was total _shit_. A complete lie that he had to make up to ease the sting in his fucking soul at having led a life so _worthless_.

He’d done his duty. He’d saved some men. After the initial bout of press, he did some great behind-the-scenes work from his desk, making internal changes within the Navy that made the lives of soldiers better, made their operations more efficient. And, of course, his run of fame had made the Navy look far more appealing to those teens and twenty-somethings who’d lost their way, who needed direction, who’d needed a job or money for school or just a reason to put pants on in the morning. Enlistment rates _soared_ that year. And all for him.

He tried not to think of which of those kids’ parents and spouses got condolence letters like he’d gotten for his brother. He’d saved men when he threw that bomb (and lost his hand). But who had he doomed in the process?

His thoughts had been getting darker as of late, and he knew tonight wasn’t the night for a bar. He couldn’t handle faking his way through another meet-cute, playing the rake, the scoundrel, the misunderstood hero. He couldn’t stomach the emptiness he’d feel as he spilled himself inside another woman whose name he didn’t want to remember, whose face, even contorted in desire and fulfillment and _pleasure_ , was dull and lifeless by comparison.

If he were being honest with himself, he knew how long he’d felt so empty. Probably 8 years, 10 months and 12 days, if anyone wanted to get specific. That was the day he lost the woman he was doomed for all of eternity to compare against every other. _Emma_. She was his happy ending.

Guess his story had ended about 9 years ago, then, back when the two of them were still together and it hadn’t completely gone to _shit_. Now he was just living out some sort of tortured epilogue or something, nothing like _living_.

Oh, it was definitely a dark time for Killian Jones.

He decided _against_ drinking himself to the bottom of a bottle of Jack that night. He didn’t know why at the time, and later the only explanation he could fathom was _fate_. But something made him walk down Fifth Ave to the Museum of Art and Natural History, buy himself a ticket, and start to _wander_.

It seemed like a mistake at first. Some of the older art, the found sculptures, the rock paintings, the truly _ancient_ things comforted him – it seemed to make him all warm inside to think of people trying to create beautiful things long, long before TMZ and Snapchat. But the more modern stuff – even the abstract stuff – just made him _feel_ too much about loneliness and sadness and tragedy. He stood in front of a Van Gogh, marveling at the brush strokes, the bold colors, the beauty of it all, and couldn’t help but think how _awful_ it was that a man with those capabilities still ended up putting a gun to his mouth.

If Vincent couldn’t handle this world, how on Earth did Killian stand a chance?

He took a rest on a bench outside the Impressionism gallery, stretched his long legs and closed his eyes, tilting his head side to side to crack the aching bones of his neck. And that’s when he heard him.

“ _Mom!_ Why are you making me look at pictures of flowers when there are actual dinosaurs down the hall?”

 _Dinosaurs_. Killian hadn’t thought about the Natural History half of the museum much before. That would probably be quite impressive. And, come on, how could dinosaurs make him ruminate on human suffering? Answer: they couldn’t. He could walk his arse to the kid’s section, play some fun asteroid-impact games, and pretend he was hanging out with _Little Foot_ for the evening ( _Land Before Time_ was a classic).

“Because, Henry. First of all, art is a beautiful part of our world and you should take some time to appreciate it. Second, and most importantly, the dinosaur section is _closed_ and we’re not getting thrown in Museum jail on a school night.”

Hair raised on the back of Killian’s neck and his heart broke into a flat out fucking _sprint_.

He’d recognize that voice anywhere, even with the new (to him) maternal tone.

If he opened his eyes and turned his head, he’d see the love of his miserable life. And her son. And probably her loving husband just behind the two of them, his chest huffed out with pride at hooking Emma Swan.

Or whatever her last name was these days.

He used to keep track of her. Not really on purpose, but just after their breakup she was still somewhat stalked by paparazzi and bloggers and Regina asked that she maintain a calm, polite attitude about their “mutual decision to separate.” And she did. Each time she was asked about Killian, she answered with a sad smile that she had hoped they would work out, but the two of them had quite amicably decided it _just wasn’t meant to be_.

Of course, that was a _lie_. If two people were ever _meant to be_ , it was them. It was bloody reality that got in the way, not fate or destiny or any of those big fluffy concepts.

God, he didn’t want to see who she’d settled for, didn’t want _her_ to see that he’d never settled at all. But he couldn’t _not_ look.

Killian opened his eyes and stood from the bench, following the boy’s voice down a hall leading away from paintings (and presumably toward the science-y half of the museum). He caught sight of the boy’s floppy mop of brown hair, the oversized Iron Man backpack he was dragging off one shoulder, the skip in his step. The boy – Henry? – seemed older than he thought would be possible. Emma must have moved on _fast_ after she left him.

 _Good_. _She’d deserved better_.

Killian kept walking down the hall, paying no mind to the priceless artifacts he passed, the glowing jewels, the happy families or screaming babies.

Finally the boy ahead of Killian came to a stop just before the roped-off entrance to _Dinosaurs in Their Time_.

“Come on, mom, what’s the worst that could happen?” Henry whined.

And at that moment Killian finally let his eyes travel past the boy and to his mother, their eyes locking as Emma let out a sharp gasp.

“Good evening, love,” Killian said with a smirk.

 

**How you gonna know the feeling / ‘til you’ve lost it**

Henry had _so much energy_. And Emma had _none_.

Having recently made the rank of Detective – _finally_ – she had even less predictable hours and therefore certainly less sleep. Because she wasn’t about to sacrifice any of her time with Henry just to take a little nap. So of course when he asked to go to the museum she’d said yes – Thursday nights were half price and usually featured fun activities and such to draw the students out.

But Thursday night meant Emma had worked fifty hours the past four days and could hardly keep her eyes open to see which sculpture her son was asking about now.

She knew he’d wanted to see the dinosaurs. She knew that was approximately 80 percent of the reason he’d wanted to come in the first place. And she also knew that she’d do just about anything to make her kid happy – probably even a little bit of trespassing.

Which is what led to her actually contemplating walking over the little velvet ropes at the entrance to _Dinosaurs in Their Time_.

“Come on, mom, what’s the worst that could happen?”

And then she looked up and legitimately thought she was hallucinating. This was it – she’d finally worked so hard and slept so little that her brain was reaching deep, deep down to the very bottom crevices of her mind to draw up the image that could torture her most. Killian.

Then her hallucination _spoke_. And Henry heard it and looked at it and holy _shit_ she wasn’t hallucinating at all. No, Killian fucking Jones, her actual goddamn soulmate, was staring her straight in the eyes.

“Huh?” was all she could choke out in response to whatever greeting or question or mumbling he’d tossed at her through a token smirk.

She hadn’t seen Killian Jones in person in almost nine years. She’d seen his face, obviously, because diminished fame was still _fame_ and the internet existed and google searches and it wasn’t weird or wrong of her to _wonder_ what he might be doing (nothing much, it had seemed from her yearly research), but now he was standing right in front of her, staring like their hearts hadn’t been mutually ripped to shreds years ago. No, he was looking at her like she was _sunshine_ and maybe the whole fame-leading-to-breakup thing had never happened and they were happy and really she was going to have to come back to reality because his lips were moving and he was probably talking and she had no idea what she was doing and –

“Mom, are you OK?” Henry asked, clearly fearful that something terrible had happened. Oddly, he didn’t seem to pick up on Killian as the _trigger_ of his mother’s weirdness – no, he launched into _bro_ mode with him faster than she’d ever seen him do before. (And Emma remained speechless.)

“Um, sorry about her, I guess,” Henry said, stepping toward Killian. “I’m Henry. What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Henry. I’m Killian. It’s lovely to meet you.” He reached out his good hand (she noticed he wasn’t even wearing his prosthetic today – was that intentional?) and shook Henry’s smaller one with care. “I suppose I’m here same as you – wanted to get up close with the dinosaurs.”

“It says they’re closed, but I don’t see any construction or anything,” Henry said, peering around the corner. “Seems awfully deserted. I tried to get mom to jump over the rope with me, but she’s a cop and doesn’t want to take the risk.”

Killian’s eyes lit up with the new sliver of information Henry had revealed. _Pride_. He looked proud of her for doing what she’d always wanted.

That shocked her back to reality. “Killian. Hi. I’m sorry – you, uh… took me by surprise. It’s – it’s nice to see you.”

He looked so similar to her memory, just more _tired_. And the same was probably true of herself. Life had a way of kicking your ass and leaving you the scars to show it. Or the wrinkles or the bags under your eyes. But he was still the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on.

(And, holy _shit_ how she still loved him.)

“Good to see you, too,” he said with a smile.

What must he be thinking right now? Had he missed her? Had he moved on? She knew he hadn’t married anyone – that was certainly a development that would have been covered by at least one “news” segment – but nine years was a long time to be alone.

She’d know, after all. Not that she _was_ alone. She had Henry. And Henry was her whole world. The kid was a genius from the time he was a baby, was energetic and full of love. She’d never known another person so creative and kind and eager to learn. He was an absolute blessing that had come from an absolute curse.

Well, not a _curse_. But it had been such a messy time in her life. She was trying to lay low after her breakup with Killian – reporters were constantly hounding her for more juicy details about the split (ironic since the reporters were representative of the actual motivation for their breakup) – so she spent a lot of time drinking herself numb at little dive bars near her hometown. One night just a few weeks after she’d left Killian, she met a man who said his name was Neal. She didn’t remember anything after shot number six, but she woke up with no clothes on so she assumed there had probably been some intimate activities (despite the fact that she woke up _alone_ ). And she never saw him again.

So when the stick turned blue weeks later, she _prayed_ that it was Killian’s with every single bit of her soul. Not only did she already regret leaving him, but she knew he’d be the most wonderful father – and maybe being a father would be motivation enough to cut the Navy PR shit and settle into life with her and their baby.

She cried when the doctor gave her the approximate date of conception, and again each time they confirmed her fear – the baby growing inside her was the result of a one-night stand with a man she had absolutely no hope of tracking down ever again. If he’d given her any personal details, she didn’t remember it. And she’d done enough searches on locals named “Neal” to know he either wasn’t from nearby or he hadn’t given her his real name in the first place.

But he had given her a gift, it seemed, because Henry was more than she could have ever asked for. And over the years she’d done a bit of dating, but never anything serious. Nothing was going to be like with Killian again, and she and Henry were fine on their own.

Watching Henry with Killian was tearing her guts apart. They had gone on chatting as she’d gotten lost in her memories – their conversation sounding just a bit too conspiratorial for Emma’s liking – but it was so _familiar_. You’d never know the two of them had just met. She’d be chastising Henry for bad behavior if the man in front of them had been anyone but Killian Jones.

God, she was going to be sick. Was this how it always would have been? Could she have just caved and gone back to him when the media firestorm had died down?

Killian was just perfect enough that he probably wouldn’t have even cared the kid wasn’t his, and that thought alone just about made Emma collapse in tears.

Emma felt a tug on her arm and looked down at her son, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Come on, mom, let’s do it!” He commanded, pulling his whole body weight against hers, toward the rope and sloppily printed _Closed_ sign.

“Kid, I’m a _detective_ now. I can’t just go breaking and entering because my admittedly very smart and adorable son wanted to see dinosaurs.”

“Swan! Give the lad some credit. We _have_ come up with our bail-out plan.” Killian and Henry had adopted identical positions: arms crossed, head tilted, one leg jutting out, each the personified _duh_.

“Enlighten me, Jones.”

“We’re saying you saw him creeping back behind the rope and decided to pursue him. You know, uphold the law and stuff.” Henry was so sure of his little plan.

Emma shook her head. “Oh, so you’re going to let poor Killian here go to jail for our crime? He’d call that _bad form_.”

Killian erupted in laughter, either at the concept or at her poor attempt at his accent. “Look at this face, darling. It’s got _not guilty_ written aaaall over it.”

She paused for effect, letting the guys sweat it out, but she knew she was sold.

She also knew she was one _thousand_ percent insane for her current behavior. Not the trespassing or breaking and entering or whatever it is you might call the crime that was in progress – no, that really wasn’t all that bad.

But flirting with Killian, letting him buddy up to her son… they hadn’t spoken in _years_ and it had ended _so badly_. She’d never been so broken in her life as the day she walked away from him. Somehow all it took was one smile in a museum hallway and years of pain and suffering was just wiped clean.

This kind of reprieve wasn’t offered by the universe often. Or ever. And maybe this was a one-time thing. Maybe Killian would smile and shake their hands at the end of the night and whisper a kind goodbye and she’d never see him again ( _again_ ). But even if that were the case, wasn’t it better than the alternative? One night was better than none.

Fuck it.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

**Maybe something else I’m missing**

Who’d have thought that a visit to the museum with his mom would turn into the best night of his whole entire life? Don’t get him wrong – Henry had been excited to see the dinosaur exhibits and to see the other animals and to spend some time in the Discovery Room learning about Pirates and building huts. A totally normal visit would have been fine by him – any time with his mom was awesome – but getting the entire dinosaur wing to themselves was a level of cool he never could have imagined. It was even _more_ fun since they weren’t in all honesty _allowed_ to be there. He worried a little bit about getting caught but he trusted Killian not to let him or him mom get into too much trouble.

And, come on, it was _so_ worth it. Not only did he have the chance to run free (no, seriously, he was actually running and on a normal day that would get him in _so much trouble_ but not a single guard was in sight so he just went for it), but he also hadn’t seen his mom this happy in _ages_.

She _loved_ Henry. He knew that. More than absolutely anything in the whole world. And she was always happy when they spent time together, just like she was happy when they visited her parents or “Aunt” Ruby and “Uncle” Graham. She was happy when they went to the amusement park in the summer or the ski lodge in the winter. She was happy when she scrambled him eggs on Monday mornings.

But this was different. Her laugh was so free and she just looked… relieved or something. Like she’d finally gotten rid of a really bad headache.

Henry sprinted over to the information hub by the giant stegosaurus, eager to look at pictures of what they thought the beast _really_ looked like over his bones and everything. His mom was breathless behind him with Killian bringing up the rear, huffing with annoyance something about _gosh, Swan, is your kid on the track team_? Henry started reading facts aloud, amazed at how different the world must have looked when those things were walking around.

He was just reading to his mom and Killian what kinds of plant life the stegosaurus ate when he saw _it_. The big guy.

The T-Rex.

“Guys! Loooook!”

He jumped up and down, snagging one of each of their hands and taking off with them in tow down the long corridor toward it.

He was _so tall_. His teeth were practically bigger than Henry and he was pretty sure he’d be taller than his and mom’s house and _whoa_.

“Mom, can you believe this thing was even _real_?”

“He would have been scary, huh?” His mom was gaping at the stacked up bones, probably trying to imagine it walking down the city street or through the museum or something else crazy based on the stunned look in her eye.

Killian, though – he was looking like he was thinking over something very important. “He’s not so tough,” Killian said, pointing all unimpressed at the biggest dinosaur Henry had ever seen – like he might be able to take him in a fight.

“You’re crazy, Killian! He’d eat you in one bite!” Henry shouted, inching closer.

His mom was rolling her eyes and it only encouraged Killian to keep going. He had that look in his eyes like Grace often did before she did something really stupid and got in trouble with the teacher.

It was one of his favorite looks, because it always meant something interesting was about to happen.

“Well, maybe I just need to get a better look is all. What do you think, lad?”

Killian walked up to the edge of the exhibit and lifted his leg up and over the fence.

“Killian! What in the hell do you think you’re doing?!” His mom shouted, no longer looking amused. Yep, Killian was looking to do something stupid, all right.

“Swan, _language_. There’s a child present.”

He swung his other leg over the fence and stood, now just a few feet away from the T-Rex’s giant back legs.

“Dare me to touch it, Henry?”

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” He kept shouting as Killian inched closer. His mom was screaming her head off, too, and she certainly didn’t look _relieved_ anymore, but it was still the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

Killian grabbed a bone fully in his hand and then leaned against the dinosaur, carefully crossing his arms like he wasn’t doing the dumbest most hilarious thing ever (and like Henry’s mom wasn’t going to literally murder him when he got back down).

“Swan, will you stop yelling at me and snap a photo already? Henry! Get in the picture. Stand in front of me and point!”

Henry scrambled as close to the fence as he could and didn’t even have to plaster on his school-picture fake smile as his red-faced, shaking mom finally (and with a deep scowl) pulled out her phone and took a picture.

“OK, boys, you’ve had your fun. Now shouldn’t we get out of here?”

Killian rolled his eyes and faked annoyance but really he was smiling as he hopped back over the fence and threw his arm around her shoulders.

The three of them scurried from one skeleton to the next, reading more facts and taking more pictures – though none quite as daring as Killian’s first. It was nearing closing time and they needed to be out of the restricted section _fast_ – it was only fun to get locked places overnight in TV shows, his mom said. So they raced back from where they came, a guard finally catching sight of them just steps before they would have been free.

“Hey! What are you people doing?!” The security guy had half a donut in his mouth and kinda looked like he’d seen a ghost and Henry had to keep from laughing too hard at the dumb look on his face.

“Aye, sorry, sir. I was just a bit lost and these two came to my rescue. Had a few too many beers at the _Science on Tap_ lecture earlier. Won’t happen again, officer,” Killian responded, cool as could be.

Man, that guy was awesome.

The three of them walked normally from there, just moseying through the boring paintings toward the fountain at the front doors. Henry didn’t want the night to end.

Killian was just the coolest. And he made his mom so happy.

Henry _knew_ who he was. He wasn’t an idiot, after all. Google existed and his friends had told him how his mom was kind of famous for dating this Navy guy who had his hand blown off. So he’d looked up pictures and seen interviews and stuff. His mom had looked happy back then, too. But it was before Henry existed and happy looked different on her then. Or something.

His mom didn’t seem to notice that Henry had recognized the guy, which meant she must have been awfully distracted. He understood _stranger danger_ and wouldn’t have just made friends with some random dude. But his mom’s _first love_ (as grandpa had called him) – that guy he felt like he could probably trust. Mom didn’t trust _anyone_ , really, and _she’d_ trusted him.

(He’d asked grandpa one day if Killian was his dad. After Gramps had gotten over being super shocked, he told him that was a question for his mom. But he’d said it _sadly_ enough that Henry had known he _wasn’t_. Which had been OK at the time. But now it made him a little bummed.)

But Henry was a clever kid. The guy didn’t have to be his _dad_ for him to be in his life. He’d had such a fun night. And his mom had, too. But she was careful, always _too_ careful. So Henry might just have to pull out the _guilt_ card every kid kept in his pocket.

“Hey, mom? You promised me hot cocoa before we went home. Can we still go? I’ll bet Killian is probably thirsty, right?”

Her eyes flashed with a little bit of annoyance – yep, she knew _exactly_ what he was doing – but she caved, anyway.

“What do you say, Killian, care for a hot beverage?”

 

**It’s gonna get harder still / before it gets easy**

That _damn kid_. Of _course_ he liked her misbehaving idiot of an ex boyfriend. Of _course_ he wanted him to stick around. And of _course_ she’d take in his pleading eyes and sad face and give him whatever he wanted.

You’d never know she was a badass detective if you only saw her with Henry. For him she’d do just about anything. So what was one drink with a guy she was absolutely one hundred percent still in love with?

It was a bad idea, that’s what. But here she went anyway.

The museum was in the same neighborhood as a few big universities, so there was no shortage of coffee shops to choose from. Emma started toward the nearest one, decorated to look like something out of a fairy tale (that was the trend, these days. _Princesses_ this and _dragons_ that and _happily ever after_. It had made her bitter before because she’d come so close to something similar, but now…).

Killian boldly stepped in front of her, stopping to look back at her and Henry. “What shall we be having tonight, Swans?”

And then the confident façade _dropped_ and he got this look on his face like he’d just stomped on a kitten. “I mean former Swan and… I don’t know if the lad – I mean, uh, I should probably not call people by their last name when I don’t know it.”

She found something so endearing about his bumbling speech, his _worry_. And she tried not to be offended that he’d really never looked her up in all those years they were apart. Yeah, at first Emma had tried to ensure he wouldn’t know. She’d called up Regina the day she realized she was starting to _show_ , and _holy shit_ was that an uncomfortable conversation.

_“Miss Swan, my favorite idiot. How have you been?”_

_“Uh, well I’m pregnant, so there’s that. And I was hoping… well I don’t want it to get out. Or for Killian to know. So I was hoping you’d help me with that.”_

_“Keeping your child away from its father? That’s not very parental of you, dear.”_

_“Um, Killian isn’t the father.”_

_“Well, somebody sure moved on quick.”_

Emma had almost cried, _almost_ , but she hadn’t. And Regina had steered attention away from Emma for a time. But after Henry was born there was really nothing she’d done to try to hide her circumstances. Killian could have looked for her. Or at least looked her up (the way she’d done about him). But the shock on his face clearly suggested he didn’t know if Emma had married or whose Henry was or… well, anything.

 _Shit_ , this was awkward.

So Emma tried to laugh it off. “We’re the Swans. Though it sounds awfully funny when you say it that way. It makes me think of birds. And birds aren’t really all that nice. My parents – my real parents – you remember their last name is Nolan but once they found me again they wanted to make me feel _represented_ in the family. So they adopted a couple of _actual_ swans for the house. Those bastards were _mean_. So, yeah, we’re the Swans, except… you know, _nicer_.”

He released a sigh of relief – whether that was based on her recovery at the weird moment or the fact that there didn’t appear to be a guy in her life, well she’d never really know.

“So what’ll it be then, three hot chocolates with cinnamon?”

“Yes, please!” Emma and Henry agreed in unison, making them chuckle at their synchronicity.

“Great, why don’t you two find us a seat and I’ll get the drinks?” Killian asked, and Emma tried to argue that she _really_ should be paying, but he wasn’t allowing it. _Bad form_ and all (idiot).

They took a seat in the little courtyard out front and the three of them kept talking like there wasn’t an elephant (or _dinosaur_ , really) in the room. Killian asked Henry how school was and Henry asked Killian what he did for work (still contracting with the Navy). Emma talked about her open cases (vaguely) and they all got into a heated discussion about this TV show about Snow White and Prince Charming.

“Come _on_ , Killian. Snow is definitely the hero. She’s amazing! She’s a princess and she kicks butt,” Henry asserted, waving his stir stick in Killian’s face.

“Aye, lad, I agree, but that Charming fellow – he _wasn’t_ a prince and still slayed a dragon and took back a kingdom. I’d say he’s the hero.”

The boys both looked at Emma for her (tiebreaking) opinion. She liked the show, she really did. But there was something a little too _safe_ about it. “I don’t know, guys. I’ve always been a little more for the pirates than the royalty.”

At that Killian looked at her, looked right into her soul. She’d called him a pirate before (in another life). Her dashing rapscallion. And she _missed_ him.

 _Fuck_. They were going to have to talk. Like, _talk_ talk.

How exactly were they supposed to do that with Henry there?

Killian’s mouth pulled up into a half-smirk and he _winked_ and she knew he could probably still read her mind like he always seemed to before. So he gathered up their empty mugs and returned them to the bar, giving her a moment with her son.

“Hey, Henry?”

“What’s up, mom?”

“Um, I need – I need to talk to Killian. So maybe if you wanted to listen to some music? I have my headphones. I know it’s weird and you’re probably confused and -”

“I’m not confused, mom. You’re still in love with Killian. And you probably should tell him. I think he loves you, too, but he looks kinda scared.”

 _That little brat_. Apparently her son had done some Googling he hadn’t told her about. Or possibly talking to her father. Or _both_.

“Killian was very important to me once. But it’s been a long time. Just because we had fun tonight doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yes it does, mom. You’re always telling me how smart I am. I can _see_ stuff. I know where this is going and I’m happy about it. So give me your headphones and I’ll sit here and hum and you two can figure out whatever you want. But just – follow your heart, mom. _Please_.”

Emma paused for a minute, stunned at the wisdom imparted on her by her eight year-old. She stared into his all-too-genuine eyes and smiled, reaching for the headphones in her purse and hooking them up to her phone.

Henry was scrolling through Pandora playlists when Killian came back to the table, three wrapped cupcakes balanced between his hand and stump. “A treat to take home,” he clarified as he sat down.

“Thanks, Killian.” She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, staring down at the scratches on the surface of the tabletop. The swirls and lines were haphazard, but she could just barely make out pictures in the imperfections, kind of like finding animals in the clouds.

Henry peered over at her, sensing her avoidance tactics, and grasped her hand under the table in his smaller one.

“Emma, are you OK?” Killian asked, clearly concerned.

“Yeah, I’m all right. I wanted to talk to you, though. Seeing you, it’s been – I never expected to see you again. But I _missed_ you.”

“I’ve been miserable, Emma. Since the day that you left. I mean, not that I wasn’t miserable before you left. That life – it was killing me. And you. So I had to let you go when you wanted to. But I’m not… _whole_ without you.”

Emma squeezed her son’s hand and he squeezed back, keeping his eyes focused studiously on the phone’s screen. What Killian was saying – it was _too much_. Why didn’t she just call him seven years ago? Or five? Or last fucking month? She’s thought about him a million times, missed every single thing about him for _so long_ and clearly he did too and they could have worked it out, could have somehow gotten out of the spotlight long enough to make people _forget_ and they could have been happy and how could she be so _stupid_?

“Me neither. I’ve had a good life, Killian, but it’s not right without you.”

“I’m so glad I ran into you tonight, love. And it’s been wonderful. But it’s _not_ enough.”

 _Of course_. That’s why she never tried to get in touch with him. He probably didn’t want her anyway. She’d never be enough for the guy who could probably get _anyone_ now. And probably _had_. “Oh. Um, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest… I guess I’m just glad we got the one day and that was… nice.” She couldn’t even find words. God, Henry was going to be so broken hearted. He’d really thought it was true love or something (so had she).

“Emma, no! Please don’t misunderstand me. I meant to say that now that I remember what it’s like to have you in my life, you _can’t_ leave me again. I know it’s crazy. I know that your life has changed drastically and mine is kind of… complicated in its stagnancy. But I want to make it work again. If – if you want to try. I’m… I’m still yours.” Killian looked on the verge of tears and Emma was suddenly very aware of their surroundings – how many people could see, but she reached her free hand across to table to take his.

“As I’m yours. And I’ll always be.”

Emma felt both Killian’s and Henry’s hands squeeze hers a little tighter and she knew it was going to be hard, but somehow it was all going to be just _fine_.  

  

**It’s a dream / but there’s a real world waiting**

It was as if every bit of pain, every grain of suffering that had been filling all the spaces inside his body had _left_ the second her eyes met his at the entrance to that exhibit. The loneliness, the emptiness, the self-loathing he’d been plagued with for more than eight years just melted away and he felt _whole_ again.

She’d mended his broken pieces, given him _hope_ and she hadn’t even _spoken_ yet.

At first he wasn’t sure if she _could_ speak, the dumbstruck look seemingly cemented to her face. But her son was warm and inviting and sweet – he’d clearly gotten so much from _her_ – so Killian just chatted with the boy (and conspired) and finally Emma came back to reality and the whole night turned into something he’d never in the 65 million years their little dinosaur adventure covered have guessed or even let himself fucking _imagine_.

A chance to see his Swan again.

It had been weird, all those years – knowing she was still walking around on the planet somewhere. Eating or sleeping or smiling or crying. She was still somewhere. But now she was _here_ and his heart was so full and he knew he was being an idiot and he was fairly certain the lass was going to murder him before the night was over but being around her and Henry made him goofy and brave and silly and excited and it was far more intoxicating than any amount of rum and a good fuck would have accomplished.

They were standing next to a giant prehistoric shark, Emma snapping pictures of Killian and Henry pretending to run away, when he realized something very important. His story _hadn’t ended_.

The world was offering him a new beginning and he damn well had better take it.

In all the adrenaline of almost getting caught, though, it nearly didn’t register that they were heading toward the exit. The night was coming to a close, and though he had thoroughly enjoyed all the shenanigans with Henry, he hadn’t had a chance to say a single private word to Emma.

Even if she couldn’t give them a proper chance again, even if the scars of almost a decade ago still hadn’t faded, he at least owed her some sort of apology – they owed themselves a better goodbye than her sobs and his silence.

(Though goodbye was truly the _last_ thing he wanted.)

So when the lad suggested a drink and Emma didn’t bolt, he knew _goodbye_ might not have to be the outcome, and for the first day out of the last _thousands_ he finally dared let himself _hope_.

And when she admitted to _missing him_ he was absolutely committed to doing everything he could so they could be together again.

He was _hers_. And she said she was still _his_.

It didn’t feel real but it _was_ and all of a sudden Emma was pulling Henry’s headphones off and telling him that Killian brought him a cupcake and telling him to say thank you and it was like _magic_ how suddenly they could just _be_.

“Where’s your prosthetic?” Emma asked, absentmindedly fixing the tag on Henry’s shirt.

“I get along pretty well without it and it’s actually kind of a pain. Plus, people seem to notice me more when I’ve got it on and you know how uncomfortable _that_ experience is. Which has waned by the way. Regular people sometimes recognize me and all, but I don’t really do anything official or have people following me. Just so you know.”

He really needed her to know that they could be OK, that the biggest problem they’d had wasn’t really a problem anymore. Although he did know there might be an influx of interest if anything got out about him being spotted with Emma, especially with a child that age in tow. It didn’t help any further that the kid shared Killian’s coloring and such.

He knew Henry wasn’t his. Emma would have never kept such a thing from him. But tabloids could suggest it pretty easily, so they’d have to be prepared for that. If the time came, he’d do everything he could to protect them. He wasn’t letting reality ruin his fairy tale. Not this time.

“That’s good. I guess Henry’s seen some of our interviews. He didn’t tell me until you were taking our mugs back.” Emma chuckled and rolled her eyes.

The kid started talking about the different clips he’d seen (most of them with his mom but he also saw the one where Killian was lip syncing with Chris Evans and he said that was one of the most awesome things he’d ever seen – Killian _knew_ there was a reason he’d agreed to that, for _this_ moment right here).

“Well, Henry, I’ll try to keep any cameras off you and your mom if you decide to spend any more time with me.”

“Of course we’re going to spend more time with you. Right, mom?” Henry looked just as comfortable as Killian felt and it caused a warmth to bloom behind his ribcage that he couldn’t possibly explain.

“Yeah, kid, definitely.” But Henry started yawning just then and Killian knew they needed to get home – there was school in the morning, after all.

Emma’s beaming smile at him assured him she wasn’t going to bolt and never see him again. This thing between them was real as ever and they were going to make it work.

“Actually, Killian, would you like to join us tomorrow night? We’re going to see the new Marvel movie and heading to Dave & Buster’s so Henry can defend his high score on the fishing game.”

“Sounds wonderful, love. Can we exchange numbers and all that? Wouldn’t want you to slip through my fingers again.” Killian smirked and Emma blushed and Henry rolled his eyes at them and if he could spend every single evening like this he absolutely would.

She took his phone and tapped out her number before sending herself a message from his phone. He noticed she’d put a heart next to her name in his contact list and he hoped she’d put one next to his in her phone and that was so very primary school of him to be excited about it but he _was_.

Henry yawned again but stumbled toward Killian and hugged his waist. “It was really nice to meet you, Killian. Finally. See you tomorrow! You have a lot more stories to share with me.”

Killian ran his fingers through the lad’s hair and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, patting his back with his hand. “That I do, Henry.”

Emma hugged him, too, and kissed him (on the lips, even) and he tingled all over and his heart stopped a little as she ran her fingers over his dark stubble.

“Talk to you later.”

She called him that night and they talked until she fell asleep and texted while she was at the station the next day and seeing her and Henry again at dinner that night was like coming up for air.

She’d always been far too good for him, much too amazing; her son was too sweet. The two of them were entirely out of his grasp.

But he’d never stop reaching.


End file.
